The Solitary Farm Read online

  CHAPTER XII

  CYRIL'S STORY

  Bella looked from the astonished Durgo to the despairing Lister, andwondered what the scene meant. That the matter at issue was seriousCyril's demeanour gave her fully to understand. But what the mattermight be she could not guess, save that it had something to do with thismysterious double who had caused all the commotion. The negro appearedto be as puzzled as herself, and stared at the seated figure with anopen mouth, scratching his woolly head meanwhile.

  "Not my master, but like my master," he muttered, staring hard, andspeaking in his usual guttural manner but not in the usual negrodialect, so rude and clipped. "If you're not my master, Edwin Lister,"he added, addressing himself to the young man, "who are you, sir?"

  "Answer him, Cyril," said Bella, seeing that her lover did not speak."Did you ever see this man before?"

  Lister looked up, pale and hollow-eyed. "Never," he said briefly.

  "Did you ever meet Mr. Lister before?" Bella asked the negro.

  "Lister! Lister!" gasped Durgo, retreating a step. "Is this younggentleman called Lister?"

  "Cyril Lister," said that young man.

  "But my master had no son."

  "I am his son. Edwin Lister is my father."

  "Oh!" A sudden light broke over Bella's face, and she clapped her hands."And your double?"

  "Yes," said Cyril in low tones; "now you can guess how afraid I was tolay my suspicions before you."

  "No," she said boldly. "Why you should be afraid I cannot guess."

  Cyril rose slowly, laid two heavy hands on her shoulders and lookeddirectly into her eyes. "My dear," he said in a hard voice, "can you notunderstand that this double was my father, who resembled me so closelythat this man"--he jerked back his head towards the still staringnegro--"mistook me for him."

  "Well," said Bella, inquiringly.

  "Well," repeated Lister, impatiently, "You thought that I had committedthe murder, but now that you know the truth----"

  Bella shook herself free and grew pale. "It was your father who struckthe blow!" she said in a low, horrified tone.

  "Yes. And if my father killed your father, how can we marry?"

  There was a dead silence, and the unfortunate lovers looked at oneanother with white faces. If Cyril's surmise was true, a barrier hadindeed been placed between them, and for the moment they saw no chanceof over-leaping it. Quite oblivious of Durgo, they stared until theblack man grew impatient of the silence.

  "What does this mean?" he growled, looking from one to the other. "Icome to find my master, Edwin Lister, and he is not here. But I find onewho calls himself the son of my master, Edwin Lister." He peered intoCyril's face. "My master never told me that he had a son, and yet"--helooked again--"I believe that you are my master's son."

  "Am I so like my father, then?" asked Cyril smiling faintly.

  Durgo struck his huge hands together. "The same in every way," he saidfirmly; "figure and face and colour and walk. Even the clothes"--he ranhis eyes over Cyril's grey suit--"yes, even the clothes."

  "Oh!" It was Bella who spoke. "Cyril, do you remember that the greyclothes worn by your father on that night aided me to make a mistake?"

  Lister nodded. "That was a suit of mine," he said, "made for me. When myfather came home from Nigeria he had no ready-made clothes, so heborrowed that suit until he could get fitted out in civilised garments.Well?"

  Cyril addressed this last question to Durgo, who had started violentlywhen Nigeria was mentioned.

  "I am a Nigerian," he said in reply to the inquiry. "I was with yourfather at Ogrude, on the Cross River, for years. I came with him toLondon three months ago; but my master never said that he had a son."

  "He had his reasons for keeping silence, no doubt," said Cyril quietly;"but I never saw you, Durgo, nor did I hear my father mention you."

  "Yet you know my name," said the man suspiciously.

  "Only because Miss Huxham mentioned it when you appeared just now."

  "And I mentioned it to you before," Bella reminded him. "I told you howDurgo entered the Bleacres drawing-room and took your photograph, frameand all, from his pocket, and handed it to the girl."

  "I thought that it was one of my master, Edwin Lister, taken when he wasyounger," he said simply, "but I see----"

  "Yes! yes!" broke in Cyril impatiently. "I know what you see. I am ayounger edition of my father."

  "Yes! yes! yes!" cried Durgo, staring again. "Never did I see two soalike."

  Bella glanced at the photograph and slipped it into her pocket. Her facewas pearly white, and she dreaded the full explanation of what was tocome. "We are still perplexed," she said quietly, and controllingherself with great difficulty. "You know nothing of Durgo, and he knowsnothing of you. I think it will be best for us to sit down and discussthe matter quietly."

  "I agree with you," said Cyril, dropping down promptly. "Durgo, tellyour story and then I shall tell mine. When we each know what the otherknows, we may be able to arrive at some conclusion."

  "Regarding the murder," said Bella. "Perhaps," she added hopefully,"perhaps your father did not kill mine after all."

  "I fear he did," said Cyril heavily. "Remember what was said at theinquest about the West African knife with which the crime was committed.Nigeria is in West Africa."

  "My master had no knife of that sort," said Durgo bluntly.

  "Have you a description of the knife," asked Bella.

  "I read it in the newspapers," said the negro. "When you told me of yourfather's death, I read the papers."

  "You can read."

  "I can read and write and do many things," said Durgo quietly. "I have ablack skin, but my education has not been neglected."

  "So I should think from the way in which you speak English."

  "The missionaries taught me much, and Edwin Lister taught me the rest."

  Cyril frowned. "I notice that you do not say 'Mister' when you speak ofmy father," he said pointedly.

  "I am a chief and the son of a chief," said Durgo proudly. "And for loveof your father, who saved my life, I left my tribe and came with him. Icalled him master as a title of honour because I loved him, so whyshould I not say Edwin Lister?"

  Cyril, with the white man's inborn superiority, objected to thisfamiliarity, and, but that Durgo's services were necessary to theunravelling of the mystery, would have pointed this out. As it was, hesimply nodded and asked the black man to be more explicit. Durgo satdown and complied without any argument. His manners for a negro weresingularly good.

  "There is not much to tell," he said in his guttural tones. "EdwinLister was my friend and a trader in Nigeria, my country. He saved mylife from a lion and won my gratitude. I helped him with his trading andleft my tribe to do so. We heard of a treasure in the wilds of mycountry, and wished to fit out an expedition to find that treasure.Edwin Lister did, that is, and I was glad to do as he desired. But werequired money, and it could not be had. Edwin Lister then thought of anold friend of his, Captain Huxham, who had also been in Nigeria----"

  "My father!" cried Bella, startled.

  "Yes, missy," said Durgo, bending his head towards her with graverespect. "He was well known in Nigeria many years ago, as he had a riversteamer there. Edwin Lister then came to London with me, and afterwardscame to see Captain Huxham here. That was some weeks ago, and hepromised me to return. As he did not, I came down and then heard of themurder of Captain Huxham. But where is my master, Edwin Lister?" andDurgo looked from one to the other.

  "Have you not seen him since?" asked Cyril anxiously.

  "No." Durgo shook his head profoundly.

  "What do you think has become of him?" asked Cyril, still white.

  Durgo reflected. "I think," he said gravely, "that Edwin Lister killedCaptain Huxham and ran away. Soon he will write to me and I can joinhim. Then we can return to Nigeria and hunt for the treasure."

  "But why should Mr. Lister kill my father?" asked Bella.

  "He wanted money," said Durgo simply. "If Captai
n Huxham would not givethe money, Edwin Lister would kill him. It is quite simple. But I wish,"added the negro wisely, "that my master had let me kill Captain Huxham."

  "Would you have done so?" cried Bella, horrified.

  Durgo looked up in surprise. "Oh, yes, if Edwin Lister had wished it."

  Cyril and the girl looked at one another. Durgo was still a savage, inspite of the veneer of education and civilisation, which themissionaries had given him. He would have killed Huxham as easily as hewould have killed a fly. Perhaps also Edwin Lister had becomede-civilised, and had acted in the same way.

  "But what has become of my father?" asked Cyril.

  "You do not know?" inquired Durgo politely.

  Cyril shook his head. "I do not know," he said gloomily, "unless, as yousay, he murdered Huxham to get money, and then ran away into hiding. Hemay be on the Continent--in Paris."

  "In that case, I shall hear from him soon," said Durgo, rising. "When Ido, I shall let you know."

  "Come back," said Cyril, in an even tone, as Durgo was about to stalkaway, "it is necessary for me to have your assistance."

  "In what?" asked Durgo, looking over his huge shoulder.

  "In finding my father."

  "But if he is in Paris, I can go there."

  "Have you the money?"

  "I have plenty of money," said the negro with gravity. "I have my ownmoney, so it is easy for me to search for my master."

  "He may not be in Paris," said Cyril hastily; "that is only a guess onmy part. Before searching for him over there, it will be best for you toassist me in looking for him in this district. He may be in hiding."

  Durgo pondered, then returned to lie full-length on the grass. "I thinkthat my master would have run further away after killing CaptainHuxham," he said reflectively; "he is very cunning, is Edwin Lister.And, of course, he would have the money."

  "What money?" asked Bella impatiently.

  "The money for which he killed Captain Huxham."

  "The sum stolen was only worth a trifle: one hundred pounds is theamount."

  "Oh!" Durgo opened his eyes. "And my master wanted five thousand. It isa very difficult expedition right into the centre of Nigeria, and onehundred pounds is of no use. I could have lent that amount to EdwinLister myself. Hai!"--he nursed his chin in his hand--"what you say,missy, makes me think that my master is waiting here to get the moneyfor which he killed Captain Huxham."

  "My aunt, Mrs. Rosamund Vand, has both the money and the estate."

  "Then Edwin Lister will wait and see her," said Durgo gravely. "I mustlearn where he is hiding," and he half rose again.

  Cyril put out one slim hand to prevent him. "Wait for one moment," hesaid quietly, "you must hear what I have to say, and then we can arrangewhat to do. Durgo, you loved my father?"

  The negro nodded. "I would rather lose my life than see him dead."

  Cyril looked at him curiously. "Strange! I did not think that my fatherwas a man to inspire such devotion."

  "He saved my life," said Durgo impressively.

  "Humph!" murmured Cyril under his breath. "I'll be bound if he did so,that he took back the full value of his heroic act."

  Bella looked pained. "Cyril, why do you speak in that tone of yourfather?"

  "Because I know him better than Durgo," he retorted. "My father isa--but that is neither here nor there"--he waved his hand impatiently."Durgo, I am about to speak plainly. I see that you love my father, so Idon't wish to hurt your feelings. All the same, I must tell yousomething about my father which you will not like."

  "Let me hear," said Durgo frowning, "and I can judge. But you are hisson----"

  "And therefore should speak well of him," ended Cyril bitterly. "I wishI could, but I have suffered too much at my father's hands to have anylove for him. However, I shall be as brief as possible."

  "And as kind," said Durgo meaningly.

  "And as kind as I can be," retorted the young man cynically; "although myfather will be the first to laugh at the idea of my talking kindly ofhim."

  "He loves you," said the negro rebukingly.

  "Did he ever tell you that?"

  "No. He never mentioned your existence."

  "Judge then how he loves me," said Cyril coolly.

  "However, in spite of all, Edwin Lister is my father, so I shall speakas respectfully of him as I possibly can." He threw away a blade ofgrass he was chewing, and laughed ironically. Bella looked pained.

  "Cyril! Cyril! your own father!"

  "Quite so, dear. He is my father. I can say no more, and no less. As towhat I know relative to this mystery, you shall hear."

  The sky had clouded over, and the sun no longer shone. The lark wassilent, and a chill wind seemed to breathe over the golden broom and theyellow blossoms of the gorze. Bella shivered, as the change oftemperature seemed to suit with cruel exactitude the cynical tones ofher lover. She had never heard him talk in this way before, but then sheknew very little about him, and absolutely nothing of his past life. Nowshe was about to hear it, and, from the hard expression of his face, shejudged that the story he had to tell was not a pleasant one. As forDurgo, he waited silently, and nothing could be read of his feelingsfrom the dark mask of his face. Edwin Lister had saved his life, and nomatter what was said, Durgo did not intend to change his opinion of hismaster, as the finest man in the wide world.

  "My mother died when I was young," said Cyril, after a pause, "and I wasbrought up by a maiden aunt. My father I rarely saw, as he was alwaystravelling round the world in search of a fortune which he never seemedto find. Sometimes he returned to England, and treated me with carelessaffection, but I saw very little of him. But for my aunt I should havebeen utterly neglected. Bless her! she is dead," and he raised his hat.

  "Poor Cyril!" murmured Bella affected by this picture of a dullchildhood.

  "Thank you, dear!" he said, taking her hand. "My aunt did everything forme out of her small income, and I don't think my father gave one pennytowards my education."

  "But surely----"

  "No, dear!" said Cyril, interrupting her; "my aunt told me, on herdeath-bed, that she had done everything, so you can see that my fatherwas only one to me in name."

  "He was working to make your fortune in Nigeria," said Durgo quickly.

  "So he said when he came home, but I have not seen that fortune yet.Well, to continue; my aunt sent me to a public school, and afterwards toOxford. I then became a journalist, and my aunt died, leaving me atrifle of money on which to live. My father came to London and borrowedthat money--the principal of my small income--for one of his wildschemes, and I was left without one penny."

  "It was your duty to assist your father," said Durgo uneasily.

  "'Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings,'" quoted Cyril, with a sideglance--"the missionaries have taught you well, Durgo."

  "I am a Christian," said the negro proudly.

  "So am I, in a way. However, I must get on with my confession. I saw myfather at various intervals, and meanwhile earned my bread by reportingand writing articles, and all the rest of it. My father appeared atintervals, like the rolling stone which gathers no moss, and alwaysborrowed. I did not grudge him the money, and he always said that he wasabout to make his fortune, which he never did."

  "He will make it this time," said Durgo vigorously; "the treasure iscertainly hidden in the Hinterland of Nigeria, and when we reach it----"

  "Yes, when!" scoffed Cyril. "I don't believe in my father's schemes, Itell you. The last time he came home was five months ago."

  "With me," said Durgo gravely; "but I remained near the docks, and mymaster, Edwin Lister, went to the grand part of the town, coming down tosee me when he required my services."

  Cyril nodded. "That sounds like my father," he said, with a shrug;"however, on this occasion he told me that he intended to hunt forburied treasure in Nigeria, and wanted money. He did not mention CaptainHuxham, so I expect that he intended to keep that part of his businesssecret. But"--Cyril hesitated--"well, my
father--that is, he--he--nevermind," he broke off abruptly, "I can't tell you just now. But he wantedthe sum of one thousand pounds, which I tried to get for him."

  "Oh, Cyril! was that the money you mentioned?" asked Bella in dismay.

  "Yes. The sum for which you thought I had killed your father," saidCyril, nodding; then seeing that she looked pained, he hastily added,"Never mind, dear, that is all over, and we understand one anotherthoroughly. I went to Paris, as you know, to get the money. When Ireturned I heard of the murder, and when I called at my father'slodgings in the West End could learn nothing of his whereabouts. Whenyou mentioned the double, Bella, it was forced on my mind that my fathermust have been that person. But, as I could see no connection between myfather and Captain Huxham, I refused to believe this. However, from whatDurgo says, there seems to be no doubt but that my father did come bystealth to the Manor on that night, with the idea of getting the loan ofmoney. Perhaps he and Captain Huxham quarreled, but it seems clear thatmy father did commit the murder with that sacrificial knife, since itcame, as he did, from Nigeria."

  "I never saw that knife," said Durgo abruptly.

  "You did not see many things," said Cyril, rising, for he felt somewhatcramped. "My father was probably as secretive with you as he was withme. You are well educated, Durgo, and have your wits about you. Askyourself if it is possible for two men to have come, on this particularoccasion, from Nigeria, and----"

  "Two did come," interrupted the negro--"myself and my master."

  "Quite so; but if you are innocent, my father must be guilty."

  Durgo shrugged his great shoulders. "For myself I think very little ofkilling anyone," said he gruffly, "but you white men think differently,so you should not believe your father guilty, unless----"

  "Oh!" Cyril clenched his hand and grew pale. "Do you not think that Iwould give the world to believe him innocent? I love Miss Huxham, andthis murder by my father places a barrier between us. If you knewall"--here Cyril broke off hastily, as he remembered that he wasspeaking to a black man. Already he regretted that he had said so much,but he had been carried away by the tide of his emotion. "The matterstands like this," he said, abruptly changing the subject. "My fatherhas killed Captain Huxham, and has disappeared with one hundred pounds."

  "But I thought that Mr. Pence----" began Bella, only to be interrupted.

  "He is innocent," said Cyril hastily. "On the face of it, he isinnocent. I go by the evidence of the knife from Nigeria, where Pencehas never been, and by the fact that you saw my father, whom you mistookfor me, enter the Manor about the time the crime was committed."

  "I dare say you are right," said Bella vaguely, and regretted that shehad so hastily condemned the preacher. After all, the truth of thelegacy left by his aunt was not a fiction. "But what will you do now?"

  "I ask the same question," remarked Durgo, sharply. "We are no nearerthe truth than we have been."

  Cyril looked in astonishment at the negro who spoke such excellentEnglish, and so much to the point. Durgo, undoubtedly, in intellect wasequal to, if not superior to, many Englishmen, and Lister saw in him ahelpful coadjutor in solving the mystery. "We must work together tolearn the whereabouts of my father," he said wearily, passing his handacross his forehead. "It will be necessary to get him out of thecountry, if what we believe is correct. But it may be, that my fatherhas crossed the Channel."

  "If that is so, he will write to me," commented the negro; he paused,and then asked abruptly, "If you learn that your father is guilty?"

  "I shall do my best to get him away from England. Why do you ask?"

  Durgo turned away, after a piercing glance. "I thought, from what youhinted, that you would not be sorry to see your father hanged."

  "Don't talk rubbish, man," said Lister sharply. "My father is my father,when all is said and done. I only trust that we are mistaken, and thathe is not guilty of this brutal crime."

  Durgo shrugged his massive shoulders. "As to that, I care very little.From what I have heard of Captain Huxham in my own country, he was not agood man. He is better out of the world than in it."

  Bella grew crimson. "You speak of my father," she said angrily.

  The man bowed politely. "I ask your pardon, missy!" Then he turned toCyril ceremoniously. "I am stopping at 'The Chequers Inn,' at Marshely,"he informed him; "so if you will call there we can speak about thismatter. Women should have nothing to do with such affairs. They are formen."

  Lister frowned, as he did not approve of the superior way in which thenegro talked. However, Durgo gave him no chance of making a remark, butswung off with a noiseless jungle step. Cyril watched him pass out ofsight, and confessed that the man puzzled him. In spite of his barbaricorigin and black skin and rough dress, Durgo spoke and acted like agentleman, though he certainly had been somewhat rude regarding thefeminine sex. "Yet I like him," commented Cyril half to himself; "heseems to be a square chap, and to have brains. He is not the usualChristy minstrel of Africa. Humph! After all, I dare say that if youscratched him you would find the savage. His devotion to my father doeshim credit. I wonder"--here he was interrupted by a low sob at hiselbow, and turned to find Bella in tears. "My dearest, what is thematter?" he asked in dismay.

  "Can you ask?" she moaned despairingly. "If what you think is true, wemust part for ever."

  "Don't look at the worst, but hope for the best," he entreated; "wecan't be sure that my father is guilty!"

  "You contradict yourself," she said, wiping her eyes.

  "I wish I could; I am trying to think that my father is innocent. But Ido not know. My father has been my evil genius all my life."

  A thought occurred to Bella. "Why did your father require one thousandpounds?"

  Cyril looked at her sideways. "I did not like to speak out beforeDurgo," he said hesitatingly, "but the fact is, my father forged acheque for that sum."